Blur
by Saber Wing
Summary: His hands were what gave him away.


_**Author's Note: **_A few days ago I watched _Gravitation_ again and I've been endlessly reading fanfiction ever since. It re-inspired my old love for this series, and sparked this idea. I wrote this all in one session and I'm happy with how it turned out. It's a little dark, though a lot of my work is :/.

I've always wanted to explore Shuichi's darker side myself. It isn't done nearly often enough, in my opinion.

Anyway. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

His hands were what gave him away.

Shuichi had left the house today determined not to let it bother him. He'd kissed Yuki on the cheek, sang a, "Be home later. I love you!" and skipped out of the house, right after he'd brewed some coffee for his aforementioned lover. The writer was practically an invalid without caffeine.

He'd poured a cup and walked back into the room to set it on his bedside table. His hands shook as he came, and a bit spilled over the rim onto the saucer. It burned his fingers, but still he kept smiling.

Yuki lay watching with narrowed eyes, too astute for their own good even through a half-asleep haze.

Shuichi smiled wider and pretended not to notice.

When he got to NG, he greeted his fellows enthusiastically. None of them looked up, though Hiro muttered a greeting. Shuichi went straight to the table along the side wall, digging out a notebook from his backpack. There was a song he had to finish by next week and he wanted a good head start.

His hands shook on the page, no matter how hard he clamped down on the pen.

An hour later at rehearsal for their next show, he dropped the mike on-stage.

"Oops. I'm a klutz, sorry!" He laughed it off and smiled as he picked it back up. Hiro looked suspicious now, though Fujisaki and K didn't pay him much mind.

His voice was steady through the rest of _Glaring Dream._

His traitorous hands still shook.

He smiled like he meant it and ignored concerned glances from his best friend as they walked back to the studio. He met Taki Aizawa's eyes as they bumped into each other; even managing a cheery hello, as he touched K's arm and asked him to put the gun away. Hiro pointedly placed himself in front of Shuichi and even Fujisaki glared with open hostility.

Aizawa's bandmates shared an awkward glance as Taki muttered something un-intelligible, turning and rushing back the way he'd come.

Shuichi smiled, but his hands still shook.

During lunch, he made sure he ate what he packed. Some instant rice and a box of strawberry pocki. You can manage that just fine, can't you Shu-chan?

He offered a packet to Hiro who sat beside him. Choked back tears as he took it, holding onto that shaking hand for just a little too long. His eyes said he understood, though he didn't press the issue. Good old Hiro. Always knew what was best for Shuichi, whether that was to give him advice or say nothing at all.

He managed to scribble out a draft for his lyrics, though they were horrible and he knew it. But writing kept his mind off things, even if he had zero talent at it right now. When he was singing or writing, he didn't have to think about how his heart was breaking, and he certainly didn't have to think about the night terrors hounding his sleep.

They packed it in for the day and Shuichi headed home. Hiro offered him a ride, but he really preferred to walk today. It was beautiful outside, and the fresh air would do him good.

By the time he'd made it home to Yuki, his tears were dried and the smile was back on his face. He skipped through the door and sang, "Honey, I'm home!" To his surprise, Yuki wasn't slaving away over his latest novel, but instead, in the kitchen making dinner. He hardly ever bothered. What was the occasion?

Those golden eyes drilled into him as Shuichi dropped his backpack on the table, hugging him from behind and asking if he'd missed him.

Yuki said nothing, instead ordering him to make himself useful and set the table.

Shuichi's hands still shook, so much he dropped a plate and cut his finger.

"Damn it!" he cursed as he slammed his fist into the countertop. It was very unlike him and he knew it, but he was just _tired. _So tired. This charade was killing him, and suddenly he didn't give a damn about keeping on a happy face for the world and for Yuki. He just wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it. He was so _fucked up _and he couldn't stand pretending he wasn't anymore.

"Sorry. I'll clean it up," he started for the hall closet, where he knew he'd find a broom, but never made it two steps. Yuki grabbed his arm, steering him gently toward the table. Without a word he sat him down and went to fetch the first aid kit.

Shuichi hid his face in his hands, and even as he heard Yuki return and let him take his hand to clean it up, he couldn't bring himself to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm _sorry." _Shuichi didn't even try to hold back as the sobs overtook him. He was so tired. Why should he stop it? What was the point?

"It wasn't your fault." Gently, Yuki pried Shuichi's hands away, wiped the tears from his cheeks. "It wasn't your fault, Shuichi. It was mine."

Shuichi gasped as Yuki pulled him into his arms. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Yuki had called him by his name in something other than sex, but when he did, he made it count. He sank into his embrace and clung to him shamelessly.

"You think I haven't noticed? I'm not that much of a bastard."

"Yuki…" He shouldn't blame himself for what happened. It wasn't right. Yuki was the only thing that kept him going most days. For the love of his life to believe he was the cause of his pain? That was unbearable.

"Don't. For once in your life, just shut up and listen to me. Shut up and let me do something right."

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, Yuki holding him, Shuichi sobbing into a designer shirt that was probably worth more than his entire month's salary. Dinner was all but forgotten and before he knew it, he was lying in bed with the man who held his heart.

No sex. No kissing. Yuki simply lay beside him and held him tight, and it was probably the most romantic night Shuichi ever had. He fell asleep in Yuki's arms, curled into him when he woke up gasping for breath. His lover stayed with him the whole time.

He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. He was _there _and it meant more to Shuichi than anything.

The next day, Shuichi let Yuki make him an appointment with his psychiatrist. And two weeks later when Taki Aizawa was found beaten to death in an alley, Tohma Seguchi made sure the police didn't ask questions.

Shuichi didn't either. He already knew.

The fact that he was almost happy about it was what scared him the most.


End file.
